


Thermodynamics

by MoftissslilWriter



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoftissslilWriter/pseuds/MoftissslilWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A remembrance back to Sherlock Holmes' secondary school years, and highlighting the first time he got to second base (with one Molly Hooper.) </p><p> </p><p>An AU drabble-ish Sherlolly</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Molly sat cross-legged on the bed, jotting down notes as Sherlock continued on atangent about one of the concepts of chemistry they were supposed to be demonstrating with their project. In all honesty, Molly was perfectly aware of everything he was saying, and she understood it all, but she indulged him in his much-enjoyed speeches. It was her kindness (and the affection brewing that amplified her nice nature) that led them to be partners in the first place; while everyone else clung to their friends in the class as it was announced it was a partner project, Molly volunteered to be paired with Sherlock. That is what led them to where they were now- together in her bedroom, her parents still at work, diligently working on a presentation on thermodynamics and chemical equilibrium.

 

            In Sherlock’s mind, he was tutoring the girl. The only reason she would have volunteered to be with him, he thought, would be because she needed the help. No one ever attempted to even converse with him if it wasn’t for academic assistance, or sometimes to make fun of him. Still, if she thought he was going to do all the work, she had another thing coming- but she seemed an attentive pupil, even jotting down notes. The whole scenario wouldn’t be too bad, if it weren’t for the fact that she kept looking at him with the most obviously “interested” looks, and Sherlock had no idea how to deal with that. So, he just kept talking.

 

            After going on for quite a long time, Sherlock flopped down beside her on the bed, continuing his speech staring at her ceiling. This was all well and good- but it not only put them close together _on her bed_ , but in the drop to the bed, Sherlock’s shirt had ridden up, leaving his lower abdomen exposed (his supremely taut abdomen, complete with a trail of dark hair leading past the line of his trousers,) which made Molly stare and led her imagination astray. Sherlock, unfortunately for Molly, noticed:  
  
“If you’d kindly pay attention, your objectification of my body should surely be a secondary priority to understanding Gibbs energy in relation to chemical potentials.”

 

Molly blushed a shade of red never before documented. She sputtered for a moment, trying to make her apologetic nature take a back seat for just long enough to try to get herself out of this, squeaking out:

 

“I was not! I I I I I I was looking up towards your face, it’s just an awkward angle. Besides, I know plenty about Gibbs energy!”

 

“Oh, really? Prove it.”

 

“Ah, um, well, at constant temperature and pressure, the Gibbs free energy for the reaction depends only on the extent of reaction xi, and can only decrease according to the second law of thermodynamics.”  
  
“Not too bad. You’ve managed to prove you know the least amount possible on the subject, but it’s almost the most one can hope for coming from a drooling girl who can’t focus when _boys_ are around.”

 

“Oh, like boys are much better! Put them around tits and they loose it- can’t focus on a thing, poor things. How is my noticing that you’re…you’re fit any worse than any man looking at a girl’s chest? And that’s assuming I was looking in the first place.”

 

“I’m not saying I find it so, it’s all equally repulsive to me, but society seems far more obsessed over the over-sexualization of females as to make it almost the normal thing to do. Not that I pay much attention, mind.”  
  
            Molly felt she had some footing- Sherlock didn’t seem to be exuded his usual confidence on this particular topic. It wasn’t that she was terribly experienced on the subject, but she was probably better socialized, so she figured she could possibly win this argument. With her cheeks now only mildly pink, she retorted:  
  
“Oh, now, if every man who said he never looks at a girl’s chest never looked at a girl’s chest, Wonderbra’s wouldn’t exist.”

 

Sherlock’s face crinkled up in confusion, “Wonderbra?”

 

“It makes them bigger.” Molly said, gesturing to her chest.

 

There was a brief pause before Sherlock cleared his throat and asked “Are you, ah, wearing one now?”

 

Molly, though she was proud of herself for maintaining composure and dominating the conversation, could not manage to not blush profusely at that. To her eternal credit, however, she attempted to continue on with a forced suaveness and a giggle, wondering where this conversation would lead:  
“Ah, I’m afraid so…”

 

At this point, Sherlock was making no attempt to hide or in any way disguise that he was staring at her breasts. Molly couldn’t bring herself to scold him, if not only because she couldn’t deny she liked the attention. He eyed her with a scientists inquisitive indifference, but there was something else there, something warmer, something hinting at the fact he was still a teenage boy, and therefore had a magnificent sex drive. Breaking eye contact briefly to ask: “Assuming the…lift, as it were, is caused by padding, wouldn’t a sexual partner realize the existence of the assistance upon removal of the item? And is there a difference in the feel?”  
  
“Well, by the time you take it off, it’s a bit late for him to be complaining,” she chuckled, “and regarding the feel…”  

For the rest of her life, Molly would regard this as one of the courageous moments of her life, holding out her hand and saying,

“Give me your hand.”  
“What?”

“Give me your hand. You wanted to know about the feel, well…” With that, Molly took Sherlock’s hand in hers and led it to her breast. Sherlock’s face began blushing redder than Molly’s, leading him to swallow hard, fighting to maintain composure. As the hand around Sherlock’s coaxed the boy to squeeze, Molly’s other hand found its way to Sherlock’s. She then brought both hands to the hem of her jumper, leading both under and up, up, up, trailing the sensitive flesh of her abdomen until they reached her bust. She placed one of his hands on one of the cups of her bra, but guided the other under the bra, escorting it to her bare breast. Sherlock’s jaw dropped momentarily, as if he were somewhat bewildered by his stroke of luck. Molly watched his face, his reaction, before finally adding, “Feel the difference?” 


	2. Chapter 2

            Sherlock looked up at Molly, pupils almost blown with lust. His eyes never left her face as his hands explored hesitantly. He ran his fingers across Molly’s exposed flesh, and then squeezed gently, almost teasingly. Molly drew in a startled breath, exhaling a moan, “Oooohm.” Sherlock’s signature smirk returned to his lips as the wheels started to turn in that bright little mind of his; he was going to experiment. Light, feathery touches ghosted over her skin, finger tips barely grazing her nipple, causing her to whimper under his ministrations. Sherlock’s gaze fell to Molly lips, which she noticed and acted upon, bringing a hand to the back of Sherlock’s neck and bringing them together in a kiss. Sherlock was a quick study, his tongue swiping Molly’s lips, asking permission which she granted immediately. They experimented, sloppy and awkward, creating their own resulting perfection.

 

            Sherlock Holmes was often regarded as “cocky,” and that he was; as they kissed, Sherlock reached around and attempted to unfasten Molly’s bra with one hand. To his credit, he got it on the second try, but was not lucky enough for Molly not to notice his failed attempt. She pulled away from him, breaking the kiss to smile and giggle, flustering Sherlock slightly. To reward his effort, she lifted her shirt off over her head, discarding her unhooked bra with it in one motion. She bit her lip and her arms twitched as if she was about to fold them over her chest to salvage her modesty, but she simply brought her arms back to her sides, waiting. Sherlock broke the tension:   
“You’re beautiful.” he growled, voice low as was able, his eyes tracing every line of her body as his fingers moved forward to do the same.

 

            Molly captured his lips once more in a kiss as their hands began to explore one another’s bodies, starting from fingers in their hair and moving down, down, down. Molly’s hand rubbed the inside of Sherlock’s thigh, her teasing touch moving higher as Sherlock’s trousers began to show signs of strain in the crotch. Sherlock’s mouth moved to Molly’s neck, sucking and nipping as his hands fondled her breasts. Molly moaned, reveling in the sensations, fully aware that she was soaking her knickers. Forgoing all coyness, she moved her hand to caress his cock through his trousers, making him gasp in response, “M-molly!”  She then looked him directly in the eye as she used her other hand to unbutton his trousers and undid his zip, then coaxed Sherlock into lifting his hips so she could pull off the offending garment and his pants, freeing his fully-erect member. Sherlock hissed under his breath as the cool air hit his exposed cock, a sound that became a full moan when Molly took him in hand, stroking him experimentally. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he fought to gain some semblance of composure.

 “Molly,” he gasped

“Yes?”  
“M-more, please, G-god, more...”

 

Molly granted his wish by dropping to her knees beside then bed, situating Sherlock into sitting at the edge of the bed, situating herself between his legs, and pulling his displaced pants down to his ankles. She took his prick in hand once again, stroking him slowly, deliberately, before lowering her head and licking a stripe up his shaft from base to tip. Sherlock moaned low and shakily, emboldening Molly to take Sherlock into her mouth as much as she could, coughing a bit when she’d taken too much. With Sherlock whimpering under her ministrations she took the base of his cock in hand, stroking as she bobbed her head up and down, swirling her tongue on the underside of his length as she went. She set a rhythm, sucking his cock a little bit sloppily, but to Sherlock it was absolutely glorious. Soon, his thighs were trembling slightly with the need for release, and the virility coursing through him was to blame for him gasping out,

“Oh, God…let me fuck you. Please Molly, I-I want to fuck you…”

Molly released his cock from her mouth with a faint _pop_ , and then looked at him for a moment before nodding and biting her lip, “Okay.”

 

            Molly stood up and made a small show of reaching underneath her skirt and pulling down her knickers, stepping out of them as she crawled back up on the bed, straddling Sherlock. “Do you have a condom?” she asked. For as much as Sherlock loathed Mycroft, his teasing and attempts to “be helpful” were the only reasons Sherlock did, indeed, have a condom. He nodded before reaching down and pulling his wallet out of his pocket, retrieving the condom he never thought he’d make use of in a non-laboratory environment and putting it on, discarding the wrapper and his wallet haphazardly off to the side.  Molly took control, and using a little help from Sherlock, lowered herself down onto Sherlock’s cock. She went slowly, letting the initial pain ebb and growing used to his size, ultimately enjoying the fullness immensely. After a few moments she was fully seated, moaning at the sensation. She nodded, and Sherlock took his cue, thrusting upwards just a little and withdrawing. Molly met his shallow pumps, riding him with increasing fervor, one hand balancing her, the other buried in Sherlock’s curls.  Managing an increasingly frantic rhythm, they pounded away desperately chasing their own release.  A heated tension coiled low in Molly’s abdomen telling of how unbelievably close she was getting to the edge, Sherlock trailing just behind her, his hands on her hips. Just a few more thrusts and she was gone, puling his hair, whimpering and crying out Sherlock’s name as she came. Feeling Molly’s tight, wet heat clench around him with climax made Sherlock follow suit, coming deep inside of her.

 

            They stayed like that a moment, panting and slightly sweaty, before Molly demounted Sherlock in the search for her shirt. As Molly redressed herself, Sherlock set himself to rights and disposed of the condom, both finally ending up clothed and seated on the edge of the bed. There was silence as each wait for the other to speak before Molly broke the moment:   
“Well, er, you were telling me about Gibbs energy in relation to chemical potentials.”

Sherlock looked up, “Ah, um, yes. As I was saying….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Satisfactory? Merry Christmas, loves.   
> -xxxM

**Author's Note:**

> If prompted, I suppose I could write a second, more explicit chapter, but this was just a short little headcanon piece. To me, this explains how awkward Molly constantly is around Sherlock a bit more. 
> 
> Hope you like it; comments always welcome!
> 
> -xxxM


End file.
